Join us in the shadows
by HuddyJibbsAddict
Summary: In quaint, little Storybrooke, there is a darker world luring behind the picturesque appearance, and Regina Mills is right at the center of it. Meeting Malyssandre "The Dragon" Drachen, and then Robin Locksley, shakes her well-oiled routine. Here is their story.
1. Chapter 1: Enter the Dragon

_**A/N: One day I'll manage to respect deadlines... but it is not this day. Here is a very late submission for Day 1 for the bisexual Regina week: Regina realizes she's bisexual. This is the first part of a longer fic. The working title for this was DOQ Storybrooke Mafia, so don't worry Robin will appear in the next chapter. Let me know if you want more of this. Big thanks to my dear Manon (Lolymoon) for her beta work!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Enter the Dragon**

Regina Mills has rarely been able to focus so intently during a meeting that was essentially about numbers, cash flow between offshore accounts and complex financial set-ups. Their former bookkeeper, Archie -who had suddenly found himself a conscience and felt the need to explore it far, far away-, used to drone on for hours leaving her confused, and feeling like she had wasted two years of her life getting her MBA from Harvard. This new one (poached by her right-hand man, Sydney) seems much more promising. She brought colorful charts, and one should never underestimate the power of simple graphics on a group of thugs.

Sydney introduced her as Malyssandre Drachen - _I prefer Mal_ , the woman quickly corrected him-, investment strategist, a legend in her field, a highly recommended fixer when it comes to companies toeing the line of legality, or in the case of Regina's inherited business, companies who want to give the appearance of being legit without ever actually trying to be. The IRS has nicknamed the woman "the Dragon" for she leaves them only ash to dig into after she's through doing her magic.

It's a constant challenge for Regina to bring the business into the 21st century, to modernize their methods and their approach now that the authorities have so many new techniques to track their activities. Miss Drachen appears to understand her mindset, and they both know that the first step should be about upping the efficiency on money laundering and cleaning the books. Racketeering is so last millenium, after all.

Something strange happens as the meeting unfolds; while Regina's attention is still on the words being pronounced and the rather important points Mal is trying to make, her gaze shifts to the blonde woman's lips and the bright red lipstick coating them. Randomly, seemingly out of nowhere, she wonders how they would feel against hers, and once the thought has taken root in her mind, it just won't leave.

It's not the first time she entertains this kind of fantasy, though it's been quite a while since a woman has caught her interest like this, since anyone has actually. During her college years, there would be moments when she would watch fellow female students around her, during parties, walking down corridors, even sometimes during classes, and imagine the soft curves hidden by clothes pressed against hers, the silky texture of hair flowing between her fingers, how different it would be to move between sheets with them rather than with her fiancé, Daniel, or even to have both. She never voiced those thoughts, never acted on them, even if college was the perfect time for those kind of experiences, or so she had been told.

Sex before marriage with her (then) fiancé was one thing her parents could pretend to ignore, but the strong Catholic guilt enforced by an Italian mother and Mexican father from an early age made her repress those daydreams and concentrate on her studies. After Daniel died in a shoutout, and her parents gave her more important responsibilities in the family business, she became too numb to think about it again… until today.

The meeting concludes and Regina sends everyone out, except Mal. Sydney lingers by the door, but she dismisses him with a flick of her hand.

"He is persistent that one," Mal remarks derisively, shaking her head and turning back towards Regina once the door is firmly closed.

"My mother used to call him "the family pet." Or "the lapdog" depending on her mood," Regina replies absentmindedly, her eyes sweeping over the other woman's face, the way her long blonde hair is curled and rolled in a style inspired by the Roaring Twenties, the sky blue eyes, her smooth skin, before settling back on her lips.

"Fitting. I'm sorry, but is there something stuck between my teeth?" Malyssandre interrupts her musings, and Regina startles.

"Excuse me?"

"Is there something stuck between my teeth? You've been staring at my mouth for the past twenty minutes," the blonde repeats, a slightly confused frown on her face.

"I didn't even realise…" Regina stammers, fighting against the flush starting to creep up her chest at being caught, and then she trails off, pulling herself together - _never let them see you sweat_ , her father used to say. "I didn't mean to stare, but I'm rather intrigued as to how Sydney managed to recruit you," she covers, before heading to the liquor cabinet and offering her a glass of homemade cider.

Mal acquiesces, and slowly and quietly approaches the brunette. "Well, it certainly wasn't his charm," she deadpans once she is standing right behind Regina, and smirks when the other woman stiffens. "My interests lie elsewhere."

Regina recovers quickly, and turns around to hold the full glass out to the taller woman. She didn't notice the height difference until now, but while it usually bothers her when she has to look up to talk to a man, this time she finds she doesn't really mind.

Mal encircles the round glass in her hand, covering Regina's fingers, and she is quite certain she isn't imagining the shiver that runs through the brunette. "I have to admit that once he mentioned just who he was working for, I became rather curious. You have quite a reputation in some circles."

"Do I?" Regina leans back against the bar, putting just a small amount of distance between them to be able to think straight, and takes a sip from her own drink.

"Oh yes," the other woman nods. "People thought that it was complete madness for a well-established Sicilian clan like your mother's to unite itself with an ambitious Mexican cartel, but not only did it pay off beyond expectations, you managed to take over without a hitch, and now the major part of the East Coast organisations don't dare to take a leak without informing you first. That's impressive."

Regina's nose wrinkles at the image, but the praise makes her smile. "I was taught well," she replies modestly, her brows arching when it makes the other woman laugh.

Mal leans down, putting herself at eye level. "We both know it takes more than that." She puts down her glass on the bar, placing her hands on each side of Regina, effectively trapping her. "I have traveled around a lot, helped out many people, but in the end they always bored me. The challenge was never enough. You, on the other hand, you fascinate me. How such a little thing can wield so much power?" Her voice has dropped lower and lower until it's no more than a sough raising goosebumps along Regina's arms, the scent of expensive perfume filling her senses.

"Wouldn't you love to find out?" Regina tells her, her right hand raising to find a hip and bring the woman closer to her. The gasp that Mal lets escape tells Regina that the move surprised her. _Good_ , she thinks, _two can play the game_.

"I certainly would," she sounds a tad breathless to Regina's ear. " I'm sure we could do great work together if we got to know each other better."

"And what do you have in mind?" At this point there is no space left between them, chest pressed against chest, Regina's hand gripping Mal's hip desperately, the other hand still somehow clutching her drink.

"Let me show you," a hand plucks Regina's glass and puts it safely aside, fingers trail along her arm, her neck, until they reach her face. A slight pressure has Regina tilting her head back, she barely dares to breathe, and then those full lips are kissing hers.

The sensation is so familiar, and yet so different. There is a gentleness, an ability to rein herself in, which Daniel had never been able to demonstrate where Regina was concerned. Mal's kiss conveys experience and respect, she is not controlling her in any way, the slightest pull would put an end to it, but Regina isn't willing to stop it now.

When the basic need for oxygen forces them apart, Regina feels dazed and content in a way that has evaded her for years. Is this really what she has been denying herself all this time?

"Mmmmh, for someone who has never done anything like this with a woman, you're quite bold," Mal comments, smudging the traces of her lipstick from Regina's own lips with her thumb.

"What makes you think that?"

"I can usually tell, but don't worry I'm a very patient teacher."

Regina has absolutely no doubt about that, and she is quite eager to learn.

* * *

 ** _Thoughts?_**


	2. Chapter 2: A noble thief

_A/N: The first part of Robin's introduction, a response to prompt #56. One is a killer/Criminal the other one is trying to catch him/her for the OQ prompt party 2018_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: A noble thief**

Regina Mills has always been a light sleeper. She guesses it comes from her upbringing, it wasn't rare to have strange visitors showing up at all hours of the night at the Mills Manor, and, more often than not, Regina's eyes would pop open and she would strain her ears to catch snippets of conversations between her parents and their latest guest.

So when either of her lovers so much as shifts, she feels it and her peaceful slumber becomes a distant memory. Out of the two, it usually is Robin, Mal only needs some body heat to fall into a 7 to 8-hours coma.

He stirs some more, and she feels the chest she uses as a pillow expand as he sighs.

"You're thinking again," she whispers, mindful of the still blissfully unaware blonde on his other side.

His breath catches as he realizes she is awake, and despite her closed eyes, Regina can clearly picture him wincing in apology.

"I'm sorry, my mind just won't shut down tonight," he murmurs, drawing random patterns along her satin covered side with the tips of his fingers, making her shiver pleasantly.

"What is it?" She asks, tilting her head back slightly, and finally opening her eyes to study him.

"Sometimes I wonder how I ended up being so lucky, and I'm afraid to wake up one day and find out it was all a dream," he replies, and he looks so positively stricken by the mere idea that the snort she was about to let out at his cheesy words dies down in her throat.

"What on Earth made you think about this at two a.m?" She wonders, bewildered, bringing her hand from its resting place above his heart to cup his jaw and turn his head towards her.

"I think about it most nights to be quite honest," he admits, smiling wistfully at her, and she is taken aback.

"You never said anything," she breathes out, her thumb gently stroking his cheek, enjoying the way his stubble grazes her skin as he nuzzles into her touch. He normally prefers to be clean-shaven, but sometimes they are able to convince him to indulge them.

"I was afraid to jinx it. After all why would two bold, stunning women like you keep a lowly thief like me around?" He looks down at himself with a vague gesture of his hand, his face twisting in a grimace. "Especially given how I found myself involved with you."

 _He believes it_ , Regina thinks, startled, he really believes he is not good enough.

"Probably because, most days, you're the one person able to keep us sane. I don't know if you realized it but, before you came along, our moral compass had been pretty much thrown out the window," she tells him lightly, hoping that some humour will help get him out of this funk, though the events she refers to, when he started working for them, are anything but humorous.

She knows he can't have forgotten the smell of burned flesh and the dying screams as he had stood by after they had doused Sydney with gasoline, her former closest associate who had betrayed them when he couldn't cope with the fact that Mal had supplanted him by Regina's side. Unable to endure his pathetic excuses, Regina had thrown a lighted match in the barrel herself and walked away, never looking back.

Originally posted by outlawqueen-thefairytale

Two birds with one stone, they call it: they had sent a message reminding everyone what was the price to pay for talking too much, while testing their newest recruit. Robin had passed with flying colors, his composure impressing them, and he had waited until they were in private to wonder if there may be less drastic ways to proceed in the future. The only thing that had stopped them from lashing out was the fact that there wasn't any trace of judgement in his voice, just genuine curiosity.

"Of course, Mal would manage to bring home the only noble thief out there," Regina chuckles softly, shaking her head with a fond expression.

"I don't know about noble, but I'm certainly glad she did," he counters, pressing his lips against Regina's forehead, his gaze suddenly far away as he remembers.

A dear friend, the brother he never really had, begging for help to settle a huge debt, a series of burglaries and larcenies in an otherwise trouble-free, extremely wealthy community, an unrelenting sheriff, and Robin had found himself locked up. He had pleaded guilty, and had received a rather mild sentence, since he had no priors and had kept nothing for himself.

His wife, Marian, had never forgiven him the shame he had brought on his family though. She had divorced him a few months into his four-years sentence, deemed him unfit to be in their son's life, fought for sole custody with no visitations rights, and won. By the time Robin got out, she had been long gone, taking not just Roland with her, his precious boy who would never know him, but also Keith Nottingham, the Sheriff who had arrested Robin.

She had packed his stuff in his car and into a garage, the key and address to which Robin got from his lawyer. Going through what was left of his possessions, Robin found an old map, closed his eyes and randomly pointed at a spot: the coast of Maine. With no clue as to where he could find his son, a fresh start where no one knew him seemed like the best option.

So, in his beat-up car, with a few clothes and whatever mementos he couldn't stand to sell, he slowly made his way from Chicago to the East Coast, trying to enjoy his newfound freedom, finding little jobs here and there to pay for food, motel rooms and gaz. When he finally arrived in Storybrooke, he found a quaint little town, where everyone knew everyone, but asked few questions. He helped out at the local diner, Granny's, in exchange for a room at the adjacent Bed & Breakfast, the no-nonsense, eponymous owner having a soft spot for his dimples.

He thought that he could finally breathe, but luck had not been on his side for a long time now, and he found the local sheriff waiting for him in this room one morning after breakfast. Before he could ask how the man had entered, he let him know in no uncertain terms that he knew all him.

"You see I have been appointed here to put an end to the criminal activities plaguing the county and which seems to originate from this town," Sheriff Graham revealed, and Robin couldn't help his raised eyebrows and the way he looked around the tranquil B&B.

"Don't let appearances fool you, Mr Locksley. There is evil rooted deep in Storybrooke, and I want to purge it, but I can't do it alone, believe me I tried. You are just the kind of person I need for the job," the man explained, and Robin appraised him silently for long moments before wondering:

"If you are asking someone like me for help, I guess that this is dangerous, what could possibly motivate me?"

Graham obviously expected the question, though he huffed and clenched his teeth at the idea that Robin would not just jump at the opportunity to help the Police.

"As I said, I know all there is to know about you, if you assist me, I could help you find your son," he bargained, and Robin immediately straightened up.

"You know where Roland is?"

"It would be easy for me to find out."

Robin looked at the man intently, looking for any sign of deception, and the Sheriff held his gaze, unflinching.

"Alright, I will do it," Robin finally acquiesced.

"Perfect, I don't want to share many details just yet, I only have strong suspicions at this point, could never prove anything, so I think it's better to work our way up. One thing I do know is that the local cab company seems to be at the center of it all, it would be a good start to find yourself a job there. I will send you a burner phone to contact me, the less we are seen together, the better."

Robin sent an application, and not long after John, the owner of the cab company, offered him a job.

Given the trust the man was placing in him, Robin felt obligated to reveal some of his history, but John only laughed, and that probably should have worried him more that it did. The man said that he believed in second chances, and Robin was only too happy to be given a chance. He hoped that it would bring him closer to getting help to find Roland.

The first few weeks, it was pretty simple, transporting people coming and going to the airport mostly, a few packages to fetch or drop, always with the strict instruction to not open. They didn't need bother, Robin had learned in prison how aggressive people could become if you touched their stuff, and he knew better. The Sheriff was pretty interested in the drop-offs, and he asked details about the people he transported. Robin had taken the habit to stash a notebook in his glove box to keep track of all those informations.

He got used to some kind of routine, until one morning when John gave him a special assignment: to pick up a special customer from the airport. She had had to let go of her usual driver, and John was hoping she would use their services from then on.

He gave Robin a sign with the name "Mal Drachen" written on it, and sent him on his way. Robin wasn't sure what to expect, since he had no idea who to look for, but the tall, blonde woman in a stylish grey pantsuit and matching fedora, meaning business, certainly wasn't it. She headed straight towards him, looked him up and down, eyes lingering long enough in some places to have him start to feel insecure and wanting to fidget, only to conclude with a "you'll do", and preceded him towards the car, her suitcase rolling behind her, leaving him barely a few seconds to recover from his shock before he had to follow.

By the time he had loaded her luggage in the trunk and started the car, she was already on the phone, and Robin understood very quickly that she was no ordinary client, and exactly why John had chosen him specifically. He made his way towards Storybrooke, knowing better than to disturb her to ask for the address, it could wait.

"I'm on my way home, I just got your message, what happened?" He heard her say, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. A pause as she listened intently to her interlocutor's reply, and then: "He did what?" Her voice became low and deadly cold, it sent an unpleasant shiver running along Robin's spine.

"This can't go on, you tried to let him down gently, and it's obviously not working. He needs to be dealt with… permanently, and the sooner, the better," she continued, and Robin forced himself not to react. There was only so many ways to interpret this conversation, and he wasn't sure that he liked where this was going. Could it be that easy? Could he have found an actual lead so quickly?

"Of course, I'm right," she said, after another pause. "I'll be there soon, we'll determine the best course of action then," and she hung up.

A silence, and then: "I must admit that I'm rather impressed with your self-control. Usually, by this point, after such a conversation, people tend to sweat and look around for the best way to flee," she remarked, and he looked in the rear-view mirror and caught her eyes for a second before focusing back on the road.

"Well," he shrugged. "I make it a point to respect my client's privacy, and I didn't hear anything that could give me reasons to worry about my safety. Two very good incentives to keep driving," he looked up again, and saw her smirk.

"I can see why Sheriff Graham was so eager to have you on his side, Mr Locksley," that made Robin's blood run cold. "I hope that we can make a competitive offer for your services," she continued, and the vice like sensation around his heart relaxed slightly.

"How do you know…" He started, before she cut him off.

"You will realise that we know everything that happens in Storybrooke, we are well established, and people around here trust us more than they do some Sheriff thinking they are God's gift sent to save us all, until their bosses understand that they are no better than the one before and replace them," she told him, and well he could see her point, he had found Graham to be more than a little arrogant since their first meeting.

"What do you want from me?" He asked.

"Only that you listen to what we have to say, give us a chance to present you with some options," she replied, and Robin gulped.

"Options?"

"Let's wait until we are in a more comfortable setting. 108 Mifflin Street will do nicely, I trust you can find it."

He knew the address, had passed by it several times since his arrival.

The rest of the drive was quiet, her passenger was relaxed in the backseat, while he tightened his grip on the wheel until his knuckles turned white with each mile that brought them closer to their destination.

He took a deep breath after parking the car in front of the rather impressive mansion, and exited from it to open the back door for his client. He gave her the suitcase and followed her inside.

He was surprised to find a small crowd milling about, going from one room to another, some carrying packages, others on their phones or computers, exchanging papers or a few words, in what had looked like a well practiced dance.

Each of them stopped what they were doing when they saw Mal, saluting her as she led Robin towards the back of the house. She knocked once on the door, and entered without waiting for a reply. She closed the door of what Robin quickly realised was a large study and walked to the imposing wooden desk behind which another woman had been working.

She straightened up at their entrance, and Robin's breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Mal Drachen had certainly been a vision, but this woman… she was truly delectable. It was the first time in years that he had such a reaction to a woman.

"Robin Locksley…" Mal introduced. "…meet Regina Mills."


End file.
